John, who had been quiet up until now, shifted where he sat, leaning heavily against the wall with a wince. His twisted ankle was swollen and bruised, and he could feel the dull throb pulsing through his leg. "He's right, Rosana," John interjected, his tone calm but firm, the weariness showing in his voice. "I've got a twisted ankle, and I've been cut up pretty bad. The chances of me being any good in the next 24 hours are slim to none. Pushing myself would just get me killed."
Rosana's gaze flicked to John, her fists clenching tightly at her sides.
John continued, his voice more solemn. "Maybe if we were fighting someone else… but Alexander? That guy's earned his reputation as the strongest of our generation. Hell, maybe of many generations. He's more than just a target, Rosana. I bet he could knock even our demon boy out cold." He nodded toward Ty, who stood silently, his expression tense but composed.
